


The Old Man and Beer

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Series: Stories of the Sea [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: hlh_shortcuts, GFY, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-18
Updated: 2010-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-12 00:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's not like he dragged an old survivor out of his happy little hidey-hole and into his crusade, however reluctantly."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Old Man and Beer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kesomon](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kesomon).



Alysse leaned against the railing of her yacht once more, looking out over what she could see of Paris from the dock. Not much, and not all that impressive, but right now, she didn't want impressive. She didn't want impressive, she didn't want boy-scout, she didn't want comfortable.

"Damn you for being a good influence on me, Duncan MacLeod," she muttered, scowling as she pushed away from the rail. "I was happy, sailing, never staying in any port for more than a night, changing with the tide, and never making friends that could live as long as I, never taking on a student. Just one more legend of the ocean, the pirate, the raider who you can't kill."

She felt the jolt of sensation that announced another Immortal coming towards the ship, and reached for the gun at her hip, a feral grin crossing her face. Maybe she'd have a chance to try and recapture some of what she'd been, could still be, if MacLeod didn't have an annoying habit of turning up to make her feel guilty about having fun.

"I'll kill her." The voice that cut through the air, the distinct grumble, made her shove the gun away, and bolt for the gangway, hoping she got to it before the other Immortal fled.

"Kill who, and why, old man?" She paused in the center of the walkway that connected her ship to the dock, watching him watch her, not pushing him to run, though his expression betrayed his wariness and annoyance.

"Amanda said she'd be down here, wanted me to meet a friend of hers. I should have expected it would be you." Methos visibly forced himself to relax, pushing the other emotions under a mask of cool indifference.

"Probably actually wanted you to meet Nick, that kill-joy she talked me into teaching." Alysse's lip curled, and she ran one hand through her hair. "I'm not going to kidnap you, not tonight, Methos. It's not worth the effort this time."

"Not worth the effort?" Methos looked incredulous, and Alysse snarled, reaching for the gun once more.

"I'm not a good person, Methos. I never was, and I wish to hell Mac had never thought he saw something good in me. I've never cared about the game, about humanity, about anyone or anything, except how much amusement I could derive from them. How much I could get away with. Just one more personification of the sea, cruel and uncaring and ruthless. How the hell does that bastard get off with making me give a damn about more than my ship and the sea and my fun?"

"I wouldn't know." Methos eyed the gun with a hint of the earlier weary annoyance in his expression. "It's not like he dragged an old survivor out of his happy little hidey-hole and into his crusade, however reluctantly."

Alysse's arm sagged, and she growled, tossing the gun behind her onto her ship, instead of firing. "It's fucking annoying, is what it is. All I wanted was to survive, and sail the ocean until I found the end of the world. The ocean was all I had, all I wanted to need."

"If I can be sure you're not dragging me out on that tub, I'll buy you a drink." Methos was certain this was a bad idea, but right now, he hadn't seen Alysse drop her masks like this. Survivors, the both of them, and neither inclined to show the world who they really were. And both of them stuck with the image of themselves through the eyes of a born hero, not entirely certain they wanted to be what he saw in them.

"My word on in. I'll even find a hotel room, if that'll reassure you." Alysse stepped off the gangway at last, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket, something woolly and warm and not anything he'd seen her wear before. "Just... how the hell do you deal with it, Methos?"

"Living? I just keep surviving, day after day." Methos started walking, mentally mapping where the closest bar was that had any beer worth drinking.

Alysse snorted. "No. Living is easy. Living with Duncan bloody MacLeod as a friend, I mean. He's... even when he's off my damned ship, I still feel like he's leveling a disapproving glare at my back."

Methos shrugged, shoving his hands deeper into his own pockets. "I try to ignore the conscious that has a remarkably Scottish accent most of the time in favor of keeping my own hide intact."

"Huh. You would. But my worries aren't about keeping in one piece. Not a whole lot of Immortals like the idea of fighting on a pitching and rolling deck of a ship with a bare minimum of modern technology. And those that do, for the most part, tend to avoid each other, because the odds are too even for any of us to predict the outcome."

"I haven't noticed you change your behavior much in the last three centuries. You still try to find the most inconvenient places to leave me, after dragging me half-way around the world on whatever your current ship is."

"That's because you're cheap entertainment, old man. Not as likely to get the annoying 'bad girl, no biscuit' glare from the inner Highlander." Alysse hunched her shoulders forward a moment, shivering. "Gods above and below, I haven't even been able to find a random fuck in my various ports of call without a faint niggling of doubt in the last century."

"Frustrating." Methos snorted with amusement, earning himself a glare, and a rude gesture from the other Immortal. "I'm not offering."

"Why not?" Alysse's blunt question made him stop, and give her a confused look. She met his gaze, without her usual mischievous grin or the maddening gleam of amusement in her eyes. "You and I... six centuries of mutual baiting and torment, and we've never crossed that line. Never fucked, never actually really hurt each other. Why?"

Methos squinted up at the night sky, avoiding Alysse's gaze. That question was something he didn't care to examine too closely. There wasn't a safe answer to it, and even safely on dry land, he didn't want to test his skills tonight if he could avoid a fight.

Eventually he shrugged, giving her a sideways look as he started walking again. "Don't know."

"But you have a thought or two you're not going to share." Alysse trotted to keep up with him, and Methos consciously slowed down, ignoring the instincts that screamed at him to run, as far and fast as possible.

"Not particularly." Methos sighed, looking up at the street sign, and turning left. He knew he could always go to Joe's for a good beer, and a way to shed Alysse quickly, but tonight was already turning into something surreal, and there was an annoying, nagging, sense of curiosity as to why.

"Maybe after a couple beers?"

"Not likely. Maybe after a few dozen. And I don't intend to have that many."

Alysse let out a soft snort of laughter. "Survival instinct at its finest. Don't tell an Immortal woman something that offends her, and don't risk losing your head."

"Something along those lines." Methos gave her a sideways glance. "Did you expect anything else?"

"I expected you to run away when you realized you were not fifty feet from me and my ship." Alysse ran one hand through her hair. "I was waiting for the survivor in you to rear its ancient head once more, like it always does."

"Apparently, it's taking a bit of a holiday," Methos muttered, spotting the bar he was looking for, and guiding Alysse inside.

~ ~~ ~

Alysse grabbed the edges of his duster, dragging his head and shoulders down with a strength born from centuries of hauling ropes and sail canvas, as well as iron and steel. He tried to jerk away, but she only put a kiss on his cheek. Dangerously close to his lips, still, but chaste enough for her.

"Quit being such a baby, old man." Alysse let go, her usual smile restored as she stepped back. "I'm not going to break tradition yet, and try to snog you. Besides, being dead takes all the fun out of the concept of sex. Necrophilia is just not my thing."

Methos rolled his eyes. "Remind me never to take you for beer again."

"Oh, I'm sure you won't forget." Alysse's grin faded for a split-second before she plastered it over her face again, brilliant and nothing more than the mask he'd not mistake for anything else. "And if you see Mac before you forget - shove him into the nearest body of water larger than a puddle."

"Of course." Methos shoved his hands in his pockets as she skipped towards her ship, away from him, watching a moment before he turned away, heading for his car. Time to find someplace a little more land-locked for a few decades. Just in case.


End file.
